_Live From Cape Canaveral_ - Jay Barbree [34]
The thinking astronaut had solved another mystery. But his eagerness to learn had cost Carpenter precious fuel and time needed to prepare for reentry. He landed 250 miles beyond his intended landing target. Scott was isolated on the surface of the Atlantic, beyond radio range. For nearly an hour he was lost to a frantic Mercury Control and to a worried worldwide radio and television audience.
We stayed on the air during the search, and I talked about every space fact I had ever collected. I was down to telling our listeners what the food was like in the Cape’s cafeteria when a recovery aircraft picked up Carpenter’s radio beacon.
The aircraft crew found Carpenter floating in the life raft attached to his bobbing Mercury capsule. Scott had had the good sense to make sure his radio beacon had activated and to bail out of Aurora Seven and climb into his raft. He was just sitting there, eating a Baby Ruth, cataloging what he’d seen and learned.
Behind the scenes, a devastated Deke Slayton was waging a fierce struggle to return to flight status, and his fellow astronauts were worried. To the man, they were concerned about the effect the grounding was having on him.
As you would expect, John Glenn stepped forward. “We’re a team,” he said. “We’ve got to pull for our friend.”
“We’re going to give Deke back his pride,” Alan Shepard said.
“Yew man,” Gus Grissom agreed. Two words from Gus was a full speech.
So they decided to make Deke their boss.
“Give him the power,” Wally Schirra said. “His own title, office, whatever he needs.”
“Hell, he’ll be chief astronaut,” Gordo Cooper said, “but we’ll have to work fast.”
“Why?”
“Washington’s at it again,” Cooper told them. “Our friends at Edwards tell me they’re bringing in an air force general to take charge of the astronauts.”
“Like hell they are,” snapped Shepard. “Maybe an admiral, but no general,” the future admiral laughed.
“Well,” pondered Glenn, “we’ll just stand firm.”
“Damn right,” Cooper agreed. “It’s gotta be one of us.”
“Damn right,” Scott Carpenter said, slamming a fist on the table. “It’s gotta be Deke.”
They stood solid. Stonewall Jackson would have been proud.
NASA knew the Mercury Seven could not fly all the orbital flights in the upcoming Gemini program. New pilots had to be recruited for the astronaut corps. The agency went back and hired Neil Armstrong, Frank Borman, Charles “Pete” Conrad, James Lovell, James McDivitt, Elliott See, Tom Stafford, Ed White, and John Young. They had just missed the Mercury Seven cut, and with the exception of civilian Armstrong, they were all military. They were immediately dubbed the Gemini Nine.
NASA had also come to realize it needed someone to manage the astronauts’ office, to select flight crews, make assignments, plan and schedule training time, and be a link between the pilots and management. In short, be a mother hen to this elite corps.
The Mercury astronauts made three recommendations to NASA management: Deke Slayton, Deke Slayton, and Deke Slayton. NASA administrator Jim Webb smiled and turned a thumbs-up, and Deke became chief astronaut.
Those who were there said it was like turning on a switch. Deke’s pride was back. The first rule he made was there would be no copilots in space. No test pilot could stomach being called a copilot, and Deke laughed and proclaimed, “Our Gemini crew members will be made up of a command pilot and a pilot.”
Astronaut Wally Schirra is slipped into his Mercury spacecraft Sigma Seven for his textbook flight. (NASA).
Some outsiders judged the appointment as a pacifier for a crestfallen astronaut, but that attitude had a short life. Deke took absolute charge. In short order his office was the power to be reckoned with. The new levels of respect carried over to the entire astronaut team. Everybody